Lately the writing has been ultra tedious; while I’m grateful for managing a few sentences, I’ve been distracted too easily, and truthfully am feeling a little beside myself. It’s like I’m seated next to me as the writer, watching as fingers flail away on the keyboard, my scattered thoughts landing on bits of fabric, scraps of paper, or my eyes drawn to the window, enjoying the rain.
Okay, so it’s been wet out which is great and I’ve quilted cute coasters to go along with my eldest’s Southwestern placemats and to do lists are being attended, but what about my book? Oh yeah, I’m writing a novel, or trying to. The last two years have allegedly been the years I was going to complete The Hawk, but due to life, those plans have been fantastically scuppered. I won’t say spectacular fail, because I know there is a time for all things. But time is also a precious commodity and I don’t wish to waste it. I don’t want to keep saying, “This will be the year!”
While tackling some early morning mending, I considered just how vital is wrapping up this novel; for me personally it would be an enormous relief, ahem, but in the grand scheme, what does it matter? I try not to take myself too seriously, yet perhaps that’s been the problem, easier to say that a quilt requires my attention, or that family is paramount. Don’t get me wrong, my family is key, but in all that faces our world, peace matters. Love matters. Healing matters. These three elements are the basic themes of The Hawk. Maybe now more than ever completing this saga is essential.
I have never consider this, but until now, I’ve not had a problem writing. And that’s the truth; right now fashioning prose is abysmally difficult. But right now is the most necessary moment to relay love, peace, and reconciliation. Yes I have other responsibilities, however imparting these powerful notions cannot be ignored. Pondering that as stitches went in and out of a quilt binding provided me with impetus, also an eager hope; I write for a greater good as well as for myself.
We’ll see in a couple of hours if this realization makes any difference in the word count. But right now a light shines in the recesses of a dark tunnel. One reason I write is to make my corner of the world a little brighter. May a rekindling of that flame spark the creative flow into a viable groove.